


What I Remember

by thearchivistt



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, i also made her a shapeshifter because i simply won’t write about wilbur and a fish, i said no romantic relationships but sally the salmon is technically mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearchivistt/pseuds/thearchivistt
Summary: He’d thought writing everything down would have helped him, but all he had were more questions. Why had he spent so much time hiding? Why could he hardly remember his twin brother anymore?What had happened to him?
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Kudos: 28





	What I Remember

**Author's Note:**

> uhh a few things:   
> \- i started writing it right after the what i remember book was introduced so if something's inconsistent with the lore (i don't think anything is but i could be wrong) i'm just leaving it.   
> \- this reads kind of like i'm excusing wilbur's character's actions and i'm not it's just that it's from the perspective of ghostbur who, at the point that i wrote this, genuinely thought he hadn't done anything wrong when he was alive.   
> \- i wrote this before techno retconned(?) the sbi family dynamic so he is included in it  
> \- i think that's it! i hope you guys enjoy!

**_The smell of bread_ **

Niki had loved baking. One afternoon in the middle of the election campaign, she found Wilbur, drowning in work, and dragged him out of his room to teach him and the others how to make bread. He protested at first, told her something about it being his “duty as the president to get his work done as fast as possible,” but she didn’t let up. So he found himself in the kitchen with Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy while Niki gave them instructions. 

Wilbur tried his best to listen to what Niki was saying, but it was hard when Tommy was constantly throwing things across the table at him when she wasn’t looking. Tubbo was listening in rapt silence, following every instruction to the T. Fundy… Wilbur wasn’t sure what Fundy was doing, but it certainly wasn’t what Niki had intended. 

Niki was looking away when Tommy said, “Hey, Wilbur.” Before Wilbur could respond, his brother had thrown a handful of flour at him. 

“Tommy!” Wilbur exclaimed. “What was that for?”

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Niki asked, turning back around. 

“Nothing!” Tommy replied, but the flour that was now all over the front of Wilbur’s shirt suggested otherwise. 

Tommy’s loaf of bread had come out misshapen, and so had Wilbur’s, but at least they were still edible. Fundy forgot about his after putting it in the oven, and it came out so burnt Wilbur thought it might turn to dust if anyone touched it. Tubbo’s had come out perfectly, as he had been the only one actually listening to Niki’s instructions. 

Niki insisted they waited an hour and a half for the bread to cool, but when Tommy spent the better part of an hour pestering her to let them try it, she caved and gave everyone a piece. 

It had been perfect. Wilbur realized while he was sitting there that he hadn’t thought about the election for hours- the longest he’d gone without thinking about it since the campaign started. 

That was the last full memory he had until his death. Was that really the last time he’d been happy?

* * *

**_L’Manberg_ **

“What do you think of the name Manberg?” Tommy had asked when they first started planning for the new country. 

“It sounds rather… I don’t know, crude, don’t you think?” Wilbur replied. “What about…  _ L’ _ Manberg. Add an L to it.” 

“Yes, I like that.” Tommy continued to mix concrete for the walls they were beginning to build. 

Yes, the walls Wilbur remembered well. They’d taken so long to finish- they weren’t even done by the time Dream declared war- but it had been worth it in the end. He could sleep easier at night knowing his son and his friends were safe. 

L’Manberg looked so much different now. They’d had to start from scratch, he realized, after the explosion. Everything from the original L’Manberg was gone. Everything Wilbur had built was gone. 

* * *

**_The Revolution_ **

“This book declares that the nation which shall henceforth be known as L’Manberg is separate, emancipated and independent from the nation of the Dream SMP,” Wilbur said. “Does that sound good?” 

“That’s perfect,” Tommy replied. “Do we get to sign it now?” He’d been so excited to have his signature on such an official paper. 

“Yes, we can sign it now,” Wilbur laughed, handing the pen to his brother. When Tommy was done, he passed it to Tubbo, who passed it to Fundy, who passed it to… who else had been there? 

No one. It had just been the four of them. Fundy passed the pen and paper to his father, and Wilbur scrawled his signature in the book. “I’ll deliver it to Dream myself tomorrow,” he said. 

He didn’t remember ever delivering the book to Dream. There was just a big empty space in his memories in between declaring independence and having it. He knew  _ something  _ must have happened, but what?

* * *

**_Bullying Tommy (he’s a child)_ **

“Is it because you’re a child, Tommy?” he said, laughing. 

“Fuck off!” Tommy snapped, but he was smiling, too.

“Boys, be nice,” Phil said good-naturedly. 

“Maybe we could be nicer to him if he didn’t act ten years younger than he is,” Techno cut in, walking down the stairs to the kitchen where the rest of the family was standing. 

“I do  _ not,”  _ Tommy replied. “At least I’m not at death’s door like the rest of you.” 

“Me and Techno are eighteen,” Wilbur reminded. “You’ll be where we are in only a few years.” 

“I can confirm that they are not on death’s door,” Phil laughed. “And neither am I.” 

“Oh, no, you definitely are.” Techno sat up on the counter. “Remember when you died because of a  _ baby  _ zombie?”

“We’ll have to put you in a home soon,” Wilbur added. 

Phil groaned. “Can we go back to ganging up on Tommy?” 

All four of them laughed then, Wilbur most of all. 

* * *

**_Sparring with Techno as a kid_ **

He almost never won. The first time he did, it was only because it had rained the day prior and Techno had slipped and fallen in the mud. “That doesn’t count!” he shouted, and all Wilbur could do was laugh. 

“That definitely counts,” Wilbur had said through his laughter, holding out a hand for his brother to take. 

Techno had glared, but he’d taken Wilbur’s hand… and immediately let go, sending his brother tumbling right down into the mud with him. 

“What was that for?” Wilbur shrieked. “I just washed this coat!”

“And I just washed my  _ hair,”  _ Techno replied, holding up the end of his pink braid that was now soaked with muddy water. 

Wilbur just rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Let’s go again!” 

“What, so you can cheat a second time?” Techno stood up and grimaced when he saw how much mud was on his clothes.

“I didn’t cheat! You’re the one who slipped. Maybe if you weren’t so clumsy.” Wilbur crossed his arms. 

“I don’t wanna play anymore. I need to wash all this mud off.” Techno paused for a moment, then, “Race you home!” 

Wilbur didn’t get a chance to reply before his twin was already running full speed in the direction of their house. 

* * *

**_The wind_ **

In the summer, the wind was a release. Standing on the podium, with his heavy coat that he insisted on wearing despite the heat, the wind came as a relief.

In the winter, the wind was bitter and piercing. He’d step outside for only a moment and be shivering for the next several minutes. God forbid he had to go out there for any longer than that- his fingers would go numb and his nose would start running. Oh, how he hated being cold. 

He remembered wind that tasted like ashes. Wind that smelled like smoke. He couldn’t for the life of him connect it to an image. 

* * *

**_Being president_ **

He’d been a good leader, he thought. The people had adored him, hadn’t they? They’d loved him and Tommy. He’d made a promise to keep everything peaceful after the war with Dream, and he’d done a good job keeping that promise. No armor or weapons were allowed within the walls, and every conflict was solved without violence. It was… well, the way he remembered it, it was perfect. 

He knew things changed with the election campaign. Before that, even, he knew he and Tommy had done things that the people disagreed with. People began pointing out that he hadn’t been fairly elected, so he decided to hold an election. He didn’t want people thinking he was a dictator, after all. And the election went well! Of course, everything went blank after that, but he hoped he’d stayed a good leader. 

* * *

**_People cheering for me_ **

He was standing on the podium with his brother at his side, looking down at the crowd in front of him. He couldn’t see them, but he knew his closest friends were right behind him when he announced L’Manberg's independence. 

It was years later. He was standing on the same podium, but there were different people standing behind him. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, and read what it said aloud into the microphone.  _ The winner of the first presidential election of L’Manberg is... Wilbur Soot!  _ The cheers from his friends and everyone else were overwhelmingly loud. 

He was on the podium again, although he didn’t know why. His friends were standing on the ground in front of him, smiling and clapping. They were all in full sets of armor, he noticed, even though they were within L’Manberg’s borders. He started speaking, but he couldn’t remember what he had said, or why he’d been up there in the first place. 

* * *

**_Fundy growing up_ **

He hadn’t been a perfect father. He knew that. He’d been overbearing when Fundy was young, and too distant as he got older. But he’d loved his son more than anything. 

He had a memory from when Fundy was two (he aged quicker than a human would, so he was about the equivalent of an eight-year-old at that point), only days before Sally had disappeared. Sally and Wilbur had been sitting together on a blanket watching their son chase a beetle across the field. Fundy had come back looking defeated. “It got away,” he said. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, dear,” Sally replied. 

“I could catch a bug for you,” Wilbur added. 

“You’d scare all the bugs away.” Fundy rolled his eyes. 

“I would  _ not. _ Sally, would I really?” 

“You’re too tall. They’d see you coming from a mile away,” Sally laughed. 

“Fundy, I’m going to catch all the bugs in the world just for you. Out of spite.” 

The three of them laughed.

After Sally disappeared, things changed between father and son. Wilbur remembered being proud of Fundy when he announced he was running against him in the election, but Fundy hadn’t looked happy. He’d looked… angry. 

Just like everything else, he couldn’t remember anything about his son after the election. He was starting to think maybe the memories he didn’t have just weren’t worth remembering. 

* * *

**_Niki_ **

All his memories of her had come back at once. He remembered visiting her every now and then in the bakery, the smell of fresh bread and cake wafting through the windows. He remembered when she first showed up at the gates to L’Manberg and asked to join them. He hadn’t hesitated a moment before allowing her inside. 

He remembered her giving everyone gifts at Christmas, and for their birthdays, and sometimes just out of the blue. 

He hadn’t seen her in so long. Not since he came back from the dead, at least, and maybe even before that. She hadn’t left L’Manberg, had she? He missed her. 

* * *

**_The van_ **

It’s funny to think the idea of L’Manberg had started in a dingy van. He remembered first having the idea of selling potions (Tommy always called them drugs, and Wilbur always corrected him) and introducing the idea to his younger brother, who had, of course, agreed to help immediately. When the “drug empire” failed miserably, he’d written the declaration of independence, right there in the Camarvan. So much had happened there in the very beginning. 

The Camarvan was still there, but it was different. Cleaner. Wilbur thought Tubbo must have replaced it. He was sure the current president had a good reason, but he couldn’t help but be a bit sad. 

* * *

**_Tubbo building everything_ **

Tubbo had been the best at designing and building things out of any of them. When he started a project, he’d see it finished. Wilbur swore the kid would find a way to come back from the dead if he left an unfinished build. 

He remembered finding Tubbo knee-deep in the ocean at the crack of dawn. “What are you doing?” Wilbur had yawned. 

“I’m making a dock. So we can fish,” Tubbo had replied, completely focused on his work. 

“It’s so early. Did you sleep at all?” 

“No.”

Wilbur laughed a little bit. “Do you need help?” 

“Yes, actually, could you get me some more spruce wood? I’m almost out.” 

Wilbur nodded and got to work bringing Tubbo what he needed. For the rest of the day, the two of them continued building the dock. They worked mostly wordlessly, but Wilbur was okay with that. 

By the time the sun was setting, the dock was almost completely finished. “It looks good,” Wilbur said. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Tubbo grinned. 

Wilbur was proud of the kid. He’d been the one to decide to put New L’Manberg on platforms, and it looked better than it ever had before. 

There had been something else, Wilbur thought. Something else Tubbo had been excited about designing. A festival? He didn’t remember a festival, but he remembered Tubbo animatedly describing all the decorations he’d put up to Wilbur and Tommy. “So there’ll be all these different stalls with people selling food and stuff, and then on the walls of all the buildings we’ll hang the flag. We’re gonna have games, too!” 

“It sounds like fun, Tubbo,” Wilbur said. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“You’ll be there?” Tubbo asked, confused. “I thought you weren’t allowed.” 

Tommy glared at his brother, and started to say something to Tubbo, but Wilbur couldn’t remember anything else after that. 

* * *

**_Phil protecting me_ **

Phil had taken him to the nearest village for the day, and they’d left thinking they had more sunlight left than they really did. They’d ended up in the middle of the woods, at night, with nothing but a torch to see. 

Wilbur had never seen an enderman before, and he didn’t know they were something to be scared of. He stopped in his tracks, mesmerised by it’s glowing purple eyes. 

The scream it made was the worst thing Wilbur had ever heard.

“Wilbur, what are you- Wilbur!” Phil shouted, drawing his sword. He jumped in front of the boy and slashed at the creature. It screamed again, and Wilbur shrank back, covering his ears. 

Wilbur didn’t watch as Phil killed the monster. “Are you okay?” he heard his dad ask, and he nodded, removing his hands from his ears slowly. “You’re not supposed to look at those,” Phil laughed. 

Wilbur nodded vigorously, still too scared to speak. “What was that?” he finally asked. 

“It was an enderman. Have you really never seen one before?” 

Wilbur shook his head, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault. Just be safe next time you see one, okay? As long as you don’t look them in the eyes, you’ll be fine.” 

Wilbur nodded, still too shocked to say much. Phil laughed at the expression on his face. “Let’s go,” he said, taking the boy’s hand and leading him in the direction of home. 

* * *

**_Sally the salmon_ **

The first time they met, she almost killed him. 

One moment, he’d had a fish in a bucket, and the next, there was a woman holding a knife to his throat. 

“I should kill you right here,” she said. 

“Are you… the fish?” he asked in shock.

“Am I the fish?  _ Am I the fish?  _ Of course I’m the fucking fish. And I should kill you right here.” 

“I was just trying to get food, I swear! If I had known you were… uh, not a fish I wouldn’t have-” 

“Save it.” She held the knife to his throat for a few more seconds before slowly stepping back, although she kept the knife pointed at him. “I’ll make a deal with you… what’s your name?” 

“Wilbur.” 

“I’ll make a deal with you, Wilbur. I’ll let you live as long as you don’t fish in this river again. Or come anywhere near it. If you ever come back I  _ will  _ kill you.” 

He nodded vigorously. As she turned to dive back into the river, he stopped her. “Wait! How did you… what are you?” 

She turned to look at him again. “Are you slow? I’m a shapeshifter.”

“Oh. Yeah. Duh.” 

She’d laughed as she dove back into the water. 

The next time he saw her, she was holding Tommy hostage. He’d been fighting monsters in her river several nights in a row, and she’d had enough. She held a knife to his throat and ordered him to bring him back to whoever he answered to. She wasn’t at all surprised when she saw it was Wilbur. 

As time went on, it was almost like she was looking for reasons to come back to L’Manberg. Wilbur finally learned her name (it was Sally), and even visited her sometimes. They were friends, and then, well, more than that. 

She seemed to disappear as quickly as she had appeared. One evening she was there, sitting in the library with Wilbur and smiling at their son, and the next morning, she was just… gone. No note or anything. Wilbur searched for her tirelessly, but after a few months, it was clear she wasn’t coming back. 

He never stopped looking for her, not completely. Every time a fox looked at him for too long or a bird didn’t fly away as soon as it noticed him, he wondered if maybe it was her. It never was. 

* * *

**_Philza stabbing me to death with a sword_ **

He wasn’t angry with his father. He knew Phil hadn’t wanted to do it. Wilbur knew he’d never do it unless absolutely necessary. 

It hadn’t hurt. In fact, all he’d been able to feel was relief. He didn’t think he’d been very happy in the months leading up to his death. He wasn’t sure if his mind had been all there. 

He’d asked Phil to do it. Yes, he remembered now, he’d handed his sword to his father hilt-first and begged him to end it. “They all want you to!” He’d said, but he didn’t know why “they” were or why they’d wanted him dead. He’d been a good person, hadn’t he? He knew he hadn’t been perfect- he  _ had  _ tried to rig the election, but that was hardly a reason for people to want him dead. Why did people want him dead? 

* * *

**_A large explosion_ **

The force had practically sent him flying across the room. It had taken him a minute to get back to his feet, and with ears ringing and head spinning, he turned to look at the aftermath. There was nothing left. What had been there before? However hard he tried, he couldn’t remember what the land had looked like before the explosion. 

His head hurt, and when he reached up to check, his hand came away bloody. He laughed, but it came out sounding more like a cough. 

He felt like he had won something, and that feeling came with the biggest sense of relief he’d ever felt in his life. He wasn’t sure why. 

As he continued looking at the damage done, though, something like regret started to creep up on him, but he squashed the feeling down. He’d done what he meant to. What he’d been set on doing for ages. 

What had that been? 

* * *

**_The taste of salt_ **

It had been from crying. He’d cried when Sally disappeared, and he’d cried when he thought he was going to lose L’Manberg, and he’d cried just out of exhaustion countless times when he was president. 

He remembered more nights than he could count coming home after a day full of meetings or announcements or whatever it was he’d done when he was president and just falling into bed and  _ sobbing.  _ He hadn’t liked his job very much, he thought. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he said he wanted to be in power. Despite that, he’d never give it up. The thought of going without any power now that he’d had it was… unfathomable. And he’d fought  _ so  _ hard to get it. To just give it up would be stupid of him. And not being stupid was something he prided himself in. 

So he handled the exhaustion and the crying and everything. He’d be fine as soon as the election was over, he promised himself. Everything would be okay as soon as the election was over. 

* * *

**_Air in my lungs_ **

He missed being alive. He missed being able to breathe. It’s funny, he’d never thought about it when he  _ was _ alive, but now he’d give anything to be able to take another breath. Just one. That’s all he wanted. 

He remembered that the air felt different during different seasons. In fall, it was cool and crisp, but not to the point where it was uncomfortable. In the summer, it was sticky and humid. 

He remembered his last breaths, too. They’d been wet and rattling, as if his lungs were full of liquid. He’d tried to say something, to thank his father, but it had come out as a wet cough. 

* * *

**_Winning the election_ **

He’d been nervous to open the envelope with the results, but there was no reason for him to be. He’d been the only person running, after all. He’d read out the winner to the crowd in front of him and then turned to Tommy, who had the biggest grin on his face that Wilbur had ever seen. 

Wilbur couldn’t stop smiling, either. He turned back to look at the crowd, where he could see all his closest friends cheering for him. He’d won. He’d won! All that time and sleep lost to the campaign had been worth it in the end. He’d made a home for himself and his brother and his friends, and he’d fought for it, and it was his now, fair and square. 

Despite everything, despite the fact that he knew deep down he wasn’t cut out for leading a whole country, he was happy. He was  _ so _ happy. 

He’d prepared a speech, but he didn’t remember giving it. In fact, everything after seeing his friends smile at him was… it was just gone. As if nothing had happened at all. 

* * *

**_A ravine_ **

He knew he’d spent a long time there, but the only memories he had of it were fuzzy at best. It had felt like home, though, if only because both of his brothers had been there. It had been the first time in years he’d seen Techno. 

He remembered… buttons? Yes, there had been buttons, covering any free space left on the walls. 

It was cold in the ravine, but they had a fire going just about 24/7. That had been where he spent most of his time, sitting there and thinking. He was the president. Why had he been living underground? 

* * *

**_Techno’s armory_ **

He had a feeling of pride, glowing and warm, in his chest. Looking around at the chests on the wall and the armor on the stands he knew they were going to win. And it was all because of his brother. 

_ We have the Blade, _ he’d said to Tommy, and his little brother had grinned at him. 

It was one of the only memories he had with his twin other than their childhood. He knew he and Techno had spent a good portion of their life apart, but he also knew his brother had come back before the armory. He racked his brain for something, anything, but couldn’t come up with more than a glimpse of a pink braid or the glint of torch light off a crown. It didn’t make sense that Wilbur didn’t have any memories with him. They were  _ brothers.  _

He couldn’t remember what the armory was for, either. He knew it had been something big. Not the war with Dream, it couldn’t have been. There were far too many people with them in that underground bunker for it to have been that. So what was it? 

* * *

**_Books_ **

Even when he was alive, he’d loved books. He’d had quite the library in L’Manberg, holding everything from political documents to books he’d had since he was a child. He remembered sitting in front of the fireplace in winter reading and losing track of time until someone, usually Niki, had to come in and tell him it was nearing midnight. 

Of course, he had books now, too. He thought maybe they’d help him remember, and they did at first, but now all they did was raise more questions. The books told him about the war, and declaring independence, and that the election had happened, but there was nothing from after the election. He’d always made sure to have records of anything even remotely related to the country, why had he just stopped? 

* * *

**_Tunnels_ **

He’d spent a lot of time traveling through tunnels after the election. He even remembered praising Tubbo for building one that connected all the way back to L’Manberg. It had taken months of working in secret, but when it was finished it was worth it.

All the vague memories he had from between the election and his death felt like it had been done in secret. But what did he have to hide? 

* * *

**_Arrows_ **

He could clearly see Tommy standing on one end of a bridge and Dream standing on the other with bows trained on each other, but he couldn’t see how it ended. He had another memory, something more recent, he thought, of standing on top of a tower, shooting flaming arrows down at some barely visible figures on the ground. He didn’t want to hurt anyone- he’d put so much emphasis on keeping L’Manberg peaceful, especially after the war against Dream. He couldn’t think of a reason he’d be trying to hurt anyone.

* * *

**_I don’t know_ **

Wilbur slammed the notebook shut in frustration. It seemed that for everything he remembered, there was a blank space twice as big. He remembered Techno, but only from their childhood. He remembered L’Manberg, but only up until the election. He just wanted some fucking  _ clarity.  _

He’d thought writing everything down would have helped him, but all he had were more questions. Why had he spent so much time hiding? Why could he hardly remember his twin brother anymore?

What had happened to him? 

Maybe what he couldn’t remember just… wasn’t worth remembering. All the detailed memories he had were happy- even dying had come with a feeling of relief. Perhaps the giant gaps in his memories were a good thing. 

He thought about what Tommy had told him only days before, about how much better he was now that he was dead. 

Maybe he was okay with this. Maybe he could get used to it. 

Maybe he didn’t want to remember. 


End file.
